


resentment and reconciliation.

by sarah_x



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-08-07 07:45:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7706395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarah_x/pseuds/sarah_x
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a devastating argument, Ivy vows she's done with Harley this time. For good. So when both are captured and forced to spend the months running up to Christmas together in Arkham, will Ivy be able to keep her word? Or will Harley and Ivy learn to trust and love each other once again? Only time, and a few nosy Arkhamites, will tell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Good Riddance

Ivy remembered the argument in visceral detail.

It had been a couple of months ago, back in the turbulence that accompanied late fall, when Ivy felt the nervous uncertainty of nature as trees and flowers began to shed their leaves, a slow death march that would leave her feeling empty and exhausted during the winter months.

They’d managed to get a place together, she and Harley, after the last time the blonde girl had fallen out with her “Puddin” and she’d been kicked to the curb. It was a little townhouse nestled into a calmer part of Gotham, not very pretty to look at, but it did its job of feeling something akin to a home. Ivy had placed terrariums and cacti in the otherwise barren yard and Harley had instantly sequestered Bud and Lou away from her and Joker’s hideout the second the clown was off on a heist. Selina even occasionally came down from her ivory tower to pay them a visit. It was a safe place. A good place. Their neighbours seemed to suspect their true identities through thin disguises, but had yet to call the GCPD or the Bat on them. Though Ivy supposed you wouldn’t if you suspected your neighbours were supervillains.

So for almost half a year, Ivy was happy. There was no greenhouse like her old place, and she would have preferred a treehouse nestled deep in the rainforest away from the exhausting tangle of humanity, but otherwise it was as joyous as she had been in years. She and Harley mostly stayed indoors, venturing out either early morning or late at night to do grocery shopping. Harley filled the cart with what Ivy would consider useless crap – plastic keychains, stuffed toys, green milk, a unicorn helmet and lots of miscellaneous merchandise of themselves, their associates or Batman and his gaggle of children.

“Lookee!” Harley squealed, holding up a pair of Batman and Catwoman salt and pepper shakers.

“Why do you even need those?” Ivy asked in exasperation but knowing that once Harley was set on buying something, she could not be dissuaded.

“You never know when they’ll come in handy, Red.”

Life was good. There was kissing, of course, and sex, but Ivy found solace in the quiet moments. When she could read a book with Harley laying on top of her, playing with her hair, with Bud and Lou resting peacefully in a pile at the end of the couch. When they could marathon Tarantino movies or X-Files reruns with no rush to find a conversation. Ivy liked the comfortable silence her relationship with Harley afforded, even if they were few and far between with Harley’s theatrical and spontaneous flair, but they were the only times she could really relax and be herself. All thoughts of her hatred for mankind or the burning need to reclaim the Earth melted away, and for that she was occasionally guilty, but only occasionally.

She was a fool to think it would ever last long. That vile clown would always be sure to rob her of her happiness and of her Harley, in the end.

The news flashed red one evening: _Joker returns to Gotham? Startling crime spree suggests so._ Harley stared dejectedly then got up and left the room. Ivy switched the news off and followed Harley to where she found the other girl braced against the kitchen counter, as if she might vomit.

“You okay, sweet pea?” Ivy moved to rub Harley’s arm, house plants twitching around the girl’s feet sympathetically.

Blue eyes met Ivy’s hazel ones and for a moment, she saw a flicker of doubt in Harley’s eyes, the insidious rumbles of pining that followed each of the Joker’s returns. Before Ivy could scowl at her, however, it was gone, replaced by a huge white smile. “Peachy, Red! How’s about we have chicken stir fry for dinner? That’s your favourite, right?”

Harley busied herself but as Ivy watched her, she could tell Harley wasn’t truly focused on the task. Her eyes were elsewhere, vacant, as she retreated into her own mind, no doubt to those glamorised versions of her memories of the Joker. All of the highs, none of the lows. Harley smiled to herself wistfully as she stirred the chicken and vegetables. Bud and Lou came to whine and beg for chicken at her feet. Ivy should have been more firm with Harley then. Even if it meant bringing up all that trauma Harley had carefully locked away in the time they’d been living together monogamously.

She didn’t. Instead, Ivy shrugged it off. If it was just nostalgia, what harm could it do? She should have known better. Should have known how quickly Harley’s behaviour changed whenever he was around or even mentioned, how her actions became impulsive and impetuous when she believed he still loved her (if he had ever loved her at all.) No matter how far away she got, Harley would always be drawn to the Joker like a moth to a flame, regardless of whether she was burned in the process.

The night of the argument came after Ivy had been out shopping.

She was much more efficient alone. Mostly she stuck to her list, browsing often but only occasionally purchasing a luxury. The majority of what Harley would pile into the cart was consumerist nonsense, some artificial processed-to-hell-and-back slime that served only to decline the buyer’s health while turning a profit. Ivy knew every trick in the book with these people, and fought them both violently and passively on a day to day basis. They were the same corporations that decimated the Amazon faster than a person could blink and pumped toxic fumes into the atmosphere like steam from a stir fry. The more she thought about it, the angrier she got and the more the ground around her would shift, ever so slightly, so it was best to push those thoughts away and stick to the list.

Ivy stopped on the toy aisle. She wasn’t sure what had brought her here. Certainly nothing on her list. Harley often skipped down this aisle, collecting half a shelf in her arms before bringing it all back and tossing it in the cart. There wasn’t much left, most of it had been cleared out now that Christmas was fast approaching, but lingering at the back was a Riddler plushie. Ivy frowned and pulled it out, revealing a miniature Edward with a mischievous grin and a sticker that said PRESS ME pointing to the middle of the toy’s green suit. Ivy pushed down on the toy Riddler’s stomach and was greeted by a high-pitched voice announcing:

“Give up yet? Just what I thought! I, the Riddler, am better than you!”

Ivy laughed aloud, malicious at first, but it melted into a fond smile. This was exactly the kind of shit Harley would come running down the aisles to scream to Ivy about. It was so outrageously tacky yet it still managed to be charming. _Kind of like the real Riddler._ Ivy pressed the toy again.

“I’ll be your best friend…but only if you answer all my riddles correctly!”

“What comes after A, before Z and is very important to me? Why U of course!”

Ivy grinned and slipped the toy into her cart.

Arriving home, she found the house seemingly deserted. The downstairs, at least. Everything was dark. She thought about calling out to Harley but her paranoia got the better of her and she marched up the stairs, quietly dipping into each room to find either Harley or an intruder.

Harley mustn’t have heard her coming up the stairs, because she barged into Harley kneeling on the floor with her back to the door, an open suitcase in front of her that the girl was folding clothes into. Ivy just stared at the scene, dumbfounded, one hand on the doorknob and the other cradling a bag of groceries.

Harley turned to her inch by inch and when she finally looked at Ivy full in the face, her eyes were brimming with tears. She stood up, shakily, and crossed over to the bed where Bud and Lou hurried around her. Harley pushed her blonde hair out of her face and met Ivy’s confused gaze again.

“I’m leaving.” She said. Ivy could feel herself shattering.

A kaleidoscope of emotions flashed before her and all Ivy could articulate was, “What?”

“The news was right,” Her voice was small in the poorly lit room. “He is back. He got in touch with me.”

Ivy swallowed against the lump in her throat. “When?”

“A week ago.”

There was a tense silence where Ivy’s confusion lifted. "So what, you were just going to leave without saying a word? After all these months?”

 “I was gunna leave a note, and ya know, get Selina to tell ya the full story when you’d calmed do-”

The bag of groceries dropped to the floor with a sharp smash. Something inside broken, possibly a jar. Harley winced. The Riddler toy let out a muffled chirp. “A note,” Ivy’s voice was breaking with the anger she felt. “After everything I’ve done for you!”

“Listen, Red, it’s not that I don’t appreciate what ya did for me last time,” Harley stood up on shaky legs. “And everything you’re still doing, of course I do. I love ya, Red, it’s just – I-”

“What?” Ivy barked, bordering on a growl.

Harley smiled sadly. “I love ya, but I’m not _in love_ with ya.”

Ivy felt like she’d been shot straight in the chest. Point blank.

“I miss it, Red. Don’t ya get that?” Harley’s face was full of wistful wonder, eyes staring slightly above and behind Ivy, as if lost in some hazy memory. “The money. The drugs. The chase. I miss being wild and young and in love! I miss going to the Iceberg Lounge with Selina and seeing the guys, I miss our friends! Selina and Eddie and Ozzie and Victor and Harvey and-”

“They’re not our friends,” Ivy spat, voice full of frustration. “They’re psychopaths at best, sociopaths at worst.”

“This is what I mean!” Harley snapped out of her dissociating and threw her hands up in the air dramatically. “Why do you always gotta act like you’re better than everyone else, huh? Like you’re somehow above them?”

“I am above them.”

Harley sank back onto the bed, cradling her forehead. Ivy was still shaking.

“So, this is it then? You leave, he beats you to a pulp again and you come crawling back to me to pick up the pieces?” The words were cruel, but this cycle was becoming exhausting. It was draining for both of them and Ivy wondered when the breaking point would come, when there wouldn’t be any pieces of Harley left to put back together after the next time that horrendous man discarded her like a broken toy.

“Don’t say that-” Harley began but Ivy cut her off abruptly. She stormed towards the other girl and took the blonde’s head in her hands.

“He doesn’t love you!” Ivy screamed, shaking Harley’s head. The blonde girl stared at her, bewildered, and more than a little frightened. It broke Ivy’s heart but if this was the only way to get through to her, then maybe having Harley hate her was worth it if it meant the girl would live. “Can’t you see that, you stupid little girl! You’re just a toy to him! A possession! You’re a doctor, Harley, you should know all his feelings for you are fabricated! Open your damn eyes for once!”

“Red, stop! You’re hurting me!” Harley stood up and pushed Ivy off of her. Tears were streaming down her face, leaving make-up trails. So much for that waterproof mascara.

“How dare you,” Harley whispered, though in the silence of the room it might as well have been announced with a megaphone. “This is my choice. How dare you try and take that from me.”

Ivy wanted to get angry. Argue how it wasn’t her choice, how he had manipulated her mental illness and trusting nature to the point where she would always, _always_ see good in him even if it didn’t exist. She couldn’t. She felt a dangerous cocktail of fury and numbness and she just wanted the girl in front of her gone.

“If you walk out that door, we’re finished. For good. I don’t care if he twists you until you’re unrecognizable, I’m sick of this and I’m not about to invest all this emotional energy into you when you throw it back in my face time and time again. Leave now and I’ll never forgive you. You’ll never be anything to me again, except another selfish human with no regard for anyone but herself.”

“Red-”

She met Harley’s gaze so the blonde would recognize the severity in her words. She was done with this, with her. “Do you understand?”

Bud and Lou whined as they came to join Harley in the centre of the room. Harley was pointedly crying now, bottom lip wobbling, but Ivy would not waver on this.

Harley’s voice was small and shrill when the answer passed her lips, “Okay.”

She gathered the suitcase close to her and practically tiptoed towards the door. Ivy didn’t say a word. Didn’t look at her. She’s sure Harley turned around, one last time, perhaps in an attempt to get Ivy to change her mind.

Ivy let her shut the door before she collapsed. When she did, it was in agony. A deep ache in her chest that was unbearable, accompanied by racked sobs. This is why she never let anyone in. It hurt too much when they inevitably left, when they betrayed her. She felt the vines of the houseplants curl around her. Outside a tree uprooted itself ever so slightly, causing a jogger to jump back in fright and topple onto the sidewalk. The plants, the tree, the very Earth seemed to mock her: _see, we warned you about humanity, pure evil, we’re all you'll ever need._ She let out a scream, long and loud, and echoing through the block she heard the smashing of windows, blare of car alarms and a few yells of terror as nature turned against the residents, roots swiping up through the roads and crushing cars in their tracks.

Though her head still swayed, she stood up and smiled. This was her true calling. Harley had blinded her but she would not be fooled again.

_Good riddance._

Ivy moved to the window, opened it and stepped out where a plethora of vines had assembled into a stepladder. Her neighbours stared at her with a mixture of fear, betrayal and hatred as their houses were engulfed with foliage. She shrugged and grinned at them, “At least I didn’t kill you, you pathetic meatsacks.”

***

Somehow she ended up in central Gotham, carried there on carnage like some dark horsemen of the apocalypse. She could do with an apocalypse right about now.

Batman appeared shortly after she had ripped a huge screen off a skyscraper onto the street below. “Stop this, Isley!” The Bat shouted but Ivy ignored him.

“No.”

“Why are you doing this? Why now?” Batman asked, approaching openly but cautiously. “You and Quinn-”

“Don’t say that name, Batman, that person is dead to me,” Ivy replied curtly. “And soon you will be too.”

She sent a string of thorny vines shooting in his direction. The Bat tossed some kind of device at her but she deflected it easily, rising higher on the vines. She could see most of Gotham from this vantage point. A chopper circled her but before she could pull it from the sky, she heard Batman’s voice emitting from a smaller drone floating beside her "That chopper is full of a volatile chemical capable of destroying all plant life in Gotham with even a vial of the stuff. I have twelve canisters full of it. Destroy the chopper and the chemical gets released. I have around twenty choppers all equipped to do the same.”

Ivy felt a wild anger and a wild panic fill her. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Batman’s voice was harsh and firm. “Try me.”

_He’ll do it._

Ivy felt tears fall and she hung her head in defeat, allowing the vines to lower her to the ground. She blocked out the sounds of the destruction, the shouts and the wailing. She crouched on the ground, cradling her head.

Batman strode towards her, picked her up gently and cuffed her. “What happened, Pamela? You were so close to a normal life.”

Ivy stared at him behind the auburn hair that had fallen in her face. “It’s her, Batman. It’s always her and I’m tired of it.”

***

Arkham was busy.

It was to be expected. As thing wound down for Christmas, a lot of the rogues ended up back here if only to break out on New Year’s Day with some despicable resolution for the rest of the year. It offered some time for rest and recuperation and maybe even a present or two, if some misguided fans of theirs were feeling generous. It was better than freezing to death in some dilapidated hide out, though Ivy thought Victor wouldn’t exactly be bothered by a little bit of cold weather. Ivy suspected that it was because they didn’t want to be alone on Christmas. The majority of Batman’s adversaries had some kind of familial issues, herself included, if they had any family alive at all (or willing to acknowledge their existence if they had.) Christmas always presented a weird kind of camaraderie between them. A silent pact they would make an effort not to be complete assholes to each other, at least not until the first of January.

One of the doctors sneered at her as she passed the cells in chains, “Welcome back, Isley. Long time, no see.”

“Fuck you.”

“Language, Pamela,” Ivy was greeted by Dr Leland, one of the few she still respected in the Asylum. Joan had always been kind to her, as she had the rest of the inmates. “I’m sorry to see you back.”

“Likewise.”

Leland shot her a small half smile then told the guards, “There’s a spare cell next to Dr Crane, if you would be so kind to escort Dr Isley there?”

Ivy didn’t struggle as she was led away.

It must have been early morning now, the halls of Arkham dark and dirty as usual, illuminated by the harsh artificial light of fluorescent tubes as she walked. She spied Crane’s thin frame inside his cell, sitting up on the bed. Awake.

The guard shoved her into the cell and she stumbled, catching herself on the cold metal of the bed frame, before sinking onto her hard mattress and leaning against the wall.

“Good evening, Pamela,” The walls were so thin in the asylum, it was like Crane was sitting beside her in the cell. “Back for the holidays?”

She pulled her legs up to her, suddenly feeling exposed in this dark, damp cell speaking with the villain on the other side of the wall "No. Harley.”

“Lover’s spat?”

“It’s over, Crane,” She wasn’t sure why she was telling him this, it was none of his damn business and he’d likely use it against her at some point, but she needed to vent. “For good. Forever.”

“Hm. Well, we’ll see how long that lasts,” She could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “Something tells me Dr. Quinzel will be joining us quite shortly.”


	2. Lights Out

Less than a day after Ivy had been arrested, the Riddler was apprehended and within the span of a week, so was Harley.

Harley’s arrival was far less melodramatic than Edward’s. The former’s had consisted of a lot of “how dare you touch me!” and “my lawyers will be hearing about this!” before he was tossed into the previously singularly occupied cell with Crane. Ivy had to smirk to herself at the late night arguments that ensued between the two, all of which she could hear through the walls along with presumably half of Arkham. The day after Edward’s capture, Ivy started to wonder who would share her cell. She almost exclusively roomed with Harley whenever they were in the asylum at the same time. Most patients were on rotation with each other, unless a particularly difficult patient, such as herself, was staying at the asylum in which case they were often paired with someone they were unlikely to attempt to attack or maim. If another female convict was admitted before Harley showed up, then for the first time in a long time she might have a new cellmate. Perhaps it was for the better. It might have helped relieve the tension between the two if Harley ended up back at the asylum. Unfortunately that was not the case.

Harley was dropped off by the Bat a few days later. It wasn’t a pretty sight.

The story had circulated Arkham the night before, passing from patient to patient, at least those sane enough to hold a reliable conversation. Crane had told her just before lights out.

“He had promised to take her to Milan,” The Scarecrow had said, his voice hard to read. “Then he pushed her down a staircase. Funny how love works, wouldn’t you agree?”

“It’s not love!” Her blood was boiling, the words coming out louder and angrier than she’d expected them to be. She could just envision Crane’s amused smirk on the other side of the wall. “I - It’s not…it’s not love.”

“I wouldn’t know, dear,” Crane said. “Love is such a tedious and pointless emotion, fear however-”

Ivy rolled her eyes. “Yes. You like fear. Truly groundbreaking.”

“No need to take out your frustrations on me, Pamela,” He said. “When it’s obvious this is all about Harley.”

“Harley made her choice,” Ivy growled through gritted teeth, pretending that she didn’t care. Harley had betrayed her, hurt her beyond any point of reconciliation. She would stay true to her word, even if she felt sympathy for Harley. The girl had made her bed. “It doesn’t matter what my opinion on her and the clown’s…relationship is. Or how much I would love to tear apart that vile, evil man and-”

There was a loud thud from the other side of the cell and Ivy instinctively flinched away from the wall. She had to suppress a groan when an high-pitched, obnoxious voice rang out after a muted scuffle.

“Trouble in paradise?” The Riddler asked.

He didn’t get to say much else. The next thing Ivy heard was Crane snapping, “Get off my bed, you fool!” The noise that followed was, presumably, Edward hitting the floor.

***

The cream of the Arkham uniform stood out in sharp contrast to the yellow and purple bruises blooming on Harley’s skin.

This always happened. Joker would do some despicable thing to Harley, hurt her in some way, be it physically or emotionally, which would drive her away. Harley would take a break from him and come running back to herself or Selina or, frankly, anyone who would take her in. It wasn’t uncommon for Ivy to get an awkward 3am phone call from Waylon or Victor or someone at least slightly dependable, to come and pick a blackened Harley up from the hideout where she’d been pitifully crying on their shoulder for the past couple of hours. Then he would always lure her back with kindness. With sweet promises: _“I love you, babe. You’re the only one for me. I’ll steal you that necklace you’ve been eyeing, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? All you have to do is come home and all will be forgiven.”_ They would be together for as long as a year or as quickly as a day and then the cycle would repeat itself.

It was honestly horrifying and sickening to see, and they all saw it. The cycle of domestic abuse, painted right in front of their eyes, and for a long time it had felt like Ivy had been the only one who gave a damn. On top of Selina when she wasn’t chasing her billionaire boy toy. It was to be expected, though. They were bad people who did bad things. They were selfish humans with superiority complexes and a mess of mental illnesses. They were also abuse victims themselves, an issue that hit far too close to home for some, so it was better to pretend these kind of things weren’t happening to their associates and occasional allies.

Ivy was in the rec room when Harley arrived. Ivy was curled into one of the chairs beside a barred window, blocking out the pangs of pain she felt in her stomach and abdomen and the headache that rumbled across her head. Whether from menstruation or the pain of the environment around her, the hopeless trees swaying with what few leaves they hadn’t shed and the flowers desperately trying to push through frosted soil, she wasn’t sure. All she knew was it hurt, she wanted it to stop but she’d have to stick it out for at least another three or four months until spring. The rest of the inmates were scattered around the room or outside, bracing the cold weather for a poor game of basketball. Victor, who had recently been let into gen pop outside his cryo-suit, was braced in another corner, staring out another barred window. The others were giving him a wide berth and for good reason, Victor seemed to give off his own cold draft. The higher ups were stingy enough with heating as it was, no one could afford to catch the flu or it’d spread through the whole building, then the wardens and the doctors would have an asylum full of agitated, sickly short fuses to deal with. Crane and Edward were playing chess. Crane seemed relatively calm, slowly becoming bored after Edward felt the need to debate the rules with him every time he moved a chess piece. Croc was taking up most of the room on the Arkham’s single couch in front of the TV, chuckling along to reruns of Stephen Universe. There was no BET in Arkham, so apparently kids cartoons were the next best thing. Harvey was next to him, eyeing Croc every so often for the torture he was being put through, but still watching along dejectedly. Jervis was cross-legged on the floor playing a lonely game of Jenga on the a coffee table in front of the couch.

One of the guards opened the doors to the rec room and Harley shuffled in, chained by her hands and feet. A hush fell over the room. Most of them had the decency not to stare for too long but the bruises were so obvious against her pale skin, it was difficult to detract attention away from her. Lots of little gashes and bruises dotted around her arms, presumably from trying to stop her fall when she had tumbled down the staircase. Harley’s face saw the worst of it. There was a large yellow and purple bruise blossoming at her hairline. It looked like she’d collided with the edge of a step. Her cheeks were puffy and swollen and there was a gash on her lower lip. Ivy’s stomach twisted in sickening knots but her pride kept her rooted in the chair. Harley hovered in the doorway for a moment after the guards had uncuffed her, unsure how to react knowing that everybody in the room was passing silent judgement.

Their eyes met and Ivy felt guilt spring up inside her. Harley’s expression was that of a deeply distressed and abandoned woman. With only a pitiful look, reaching for sympathy, Ivy was captivated by the girl again. She tried to remind herself that she had warned Harley. She had given her a choice. Harley had decided to go with the Joker because she was no longer in love with Ivy and she thought she could get a better deal elsewhere. It didn’t work. Ivy wanted to run up to Harley and kiss right there in the middle of the rec room, audience be damned. She wanted to run her hands all over that soft skin, like some mystic healer, knowing it would do no good for the physical healing but might help repair the woman's damaged emotional state. To feel the soft thrum of Harley’s heartbeat when the jester girl was wrapped in her arms late at night, breaking prison regulations to snuggle in the same bed. To hold Harley’s hand underneath the tables in the cafeteria, like a pair of schoolgirls, constantly sneaking past the guards to find somewhere to smooch. All while their allies would wonder and wonder and wonder and possibly even gamble on them, as they had in the past until they had eventually made their relationship public for Harley’s sake (Ivy thought it was none of their business, frankly, and had always kept her relationships on a need-to-know.)

These memories were some of Ivy’s only real happy times. Yet they were shattered by a grotesque laugh that would forever haunt all of them, everyone in the rec room and beyond it in Gotham. Harley had chosen Joker over her. Harley had chosen a sadist and abuser over her. Someone who beat children to death and shot babies. Ivy never did anything without reason. She had killed people, had used them but it had been towards the protection of the Earth. The insurance of the future. A few bodies here and there paled in comparison to all the damage humanity had done to the planet over the years. All of the people in the rec room had killed people, too. Some of them had probably enjoyed it. Few of them did anything without a reason and none of them were like Joker. Joker was…Joker was evil. Pure evil. The thought of his filthy hands twisting over Harley’s perfect skin, touching her…it was enough to make Ivy nauseous.

“What?” Harley snapped after a few moments of silence. She sounded defensive, embarrassed. Her hands came to rest on her hips. “None of you bozos ever seen a hot chick before? Didn’t your mamas teach you it's rude to stare?”

Typical Harley, always finding a way to lighten the mood even if the situation didn’t constitute it.

She held her head high as she strolled over to the couch. “Move over, Fryface!” Harley plonked herself down before Harvey had time to move, practically falling into his lap.

“Dammit, Quinn, get off!” He shoved her lightly and Harley squeaked before turning back to glare at him. Croc tried his best to make room for her, pointedly not looking at her injuries.

“Hey, Waylon, Adventure Time’s on about now can we watch that?” Harley asked, showing off her best puppy eyes.

“Sure.” Croc grumbled, loud and guttural. Usually once Croc had the remote, no one could persuade him to let them watch anything but what Croc wanted. He seemed to have a soft spot for Harley, though, and was being more accommodating than usual today, which probably had something to do with her current physical state.

“Jesus Christ, we ain’t watching another kid’s cartoon!” Harvey complained, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “We can still catch Judge Judy on the +1 channel-”

“Nobody asked, Harv!”

Harvey was glaring right back at Harley, like he wanted to argue with her. Instead he bit out a, “Fine.” If only to avoid starting a fight with an injured woman. He played with a stress ball one of the doctors had given him and started a loud argument with Edward after he’d been struck by a wild chess piece from Crane and Edward’s heated game.

Harley didn’t speak to her at all and Ivy didn’t speak to Harley, either. It drew a few quizzical looks from the other inmates. If Ivy was locked up at the time, usually the first thing Harley did was greet her with a warm hug when she arrived at Arkham. That ritual being broken, however small it was, disrupted the status quo of the place, and that would make it a point of interest.

Harley glanced back at her from the couch. Once. Or maybe Ivy had just imagined it.

***  
Ivy sat alone at dinner.

It was becoming frustratingly clear how huge a part Harley had been to her life. Despite her toxic touch, Harley had often managed to coax Ivy to sit with the other rogues, even start a friendly conversation with a few of them despite it usually dissolving into an insult match. Harley was still at her big table at the centre of the cafeteria, flanked by Edward, Harvey and a few other she didn’t recognize. Victor and Croc ate in their cells. She didn’t spot Crane. Harley seemed to be recounting some tale that had them all listening, as if entranced. Harley had that effect on people.

Ivy tried to block out Harley’s light giggles and the way her whole body was animated into whatever she was doing, like swaying backwards and forwards when laughing or waving her hands around dramatically when she was telling a story. Instead, she focused on forcing down her processed gravy and mashed potatoes. The artificiality of the prison was taking its toll on Ivy. She had lost her appetite and was struggling to sleep. Though that might have had more to do with Harley. 

“Is this seat taken?”

Ivy didn’t look up. She pushed around her mashed potatoes in the dish for a moment, then scooped some up and swallowed them without chewing. “Go away.”

“Now, now, Pamela. Is that any way to treat a friend?” Crane scolded, ignoring her request and awkwardly clambering into the chair opposite her.

“Why are you following me?” She looked at him pointedly this time. He was an older man, with gaunt features and dark skin, with his eyes and hair being a slightly lighter shade. He linked his fingers together and rested his chin on them, regarding Ivy with a raised brow.

“I didn’t realize I was,” He said. “Arkham is a small place, dear. Our cells are next to each other and we’ve spoken before. I figured you would not be adverse to me sitting with you.”

“Well I am.”

“So get up and leave.” He said calmly.

Ivy moving would have bad implications, even if it was just cafeteria politics. People would say she didn’t have a backbone. That Crane had made her back down. Poison Ivy would not have her name tarnished by the Scarecrow.

She shot him a seductive smile and took a swig of her milk carton, tactics shifting. “If you’re after a good time, I could always-”

He scowled at her. “Don’t insult me with the amateurish gimmicks, Pamela. We’ve known each other far too long for that nonsense. Besides, I’m that not way inclined, pheromones or no.”

That surprised her. “Really?” She said. “Well, isn’t that…interesting.”

“I hope I can trust you to keep this conversation in confidence,” Crane lowered his voice. “This is serious, Pamela."

“What do you want?”

A smile broke out across his face. “I want to know everything Harley told you about the Joker. All of it. And any information she’s withholding, if you can get it.”

Ivy frowned at him, glancing at the security cameras in the corners of the cafeteria. “Why?”

“So we can kill the Joker, of course.”

***

_“So we can kill the Joker, of course.”_

Ivy scoffed at how ludicrous Crane’s words were. Joker was like a weed. He’d supposedly died hundreds of times before, yet he kept coming back each time. Besides, why would Crane want Joker dead? The Scarecrow was unlikely to show his hand until the very last moment, so perhaps that was too difficult a question for now. The real question was why he needed Ivy’s help and why he needed to know Joker’s secrets before he murdered him.  Was this all some ruse to further his own goals? An uglier thought came to mind, that Scarecrow and Joker were working together, not something that was completely unimaginable as they had before. That partnership hadn’t ended on friendly terms, though. 

Ivy’s head was still swimming with questions when she entered her cell for the night, so much so that she didn’t notice Harley on the previously empty bed opposite hers. Not until she heard a familiar voice squeak,

“What comes after A, before Z and is very important to me? Why U of course!”

Harley was sat cross-legged on the bunk, bathed in a halo of artificial yellow light and playing with the Riddler toy that Ivy had bought before her arrival at Arkham.

Harley shot her a sad little smile and held the Riddler toy up for her to see. “Selina bribed one of the guards,” She explained. “Smuggled him in. Isn’t he the cutest? Is he yours?”

“You can have it.” Ivy shrugged.

Harley looked crestfallen. “Red...please to talk to me. Really talk.”

Ivy turned over in bed, face to the wall and back to Harley. In the cell next to them she could hear Crane and Edward arguing again, something about how Edward could theoretically produce fear toxin more effectively then Crane could. It was somehow comforting to know Ivy wasn’t the only one having her ego wounded today.

Harley’s voice was wobbly with tears when she spoke again. “Please, Red, _please,_ ” She whispered over the shouts of the guards announcing lights out. “It doesn’t have ta be like this. You’re still my best buddy. My best gal. It’s killing me, Red. I don’t want ya to hate me.”

Ivy hugged her pillow around her torso, pretending it was Harley, but didn’t say anything else. The lights in their cell went off. Harley let out a few quiet sobs before she fell asleep.

Ivy didn’t get a wink. She cried the whole night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TFW you establish a new plot point and have no idea how it's gunna resolve itself :))) oh well this should be interesting bookmark for my trainwreck thanks


End file.
